I move through the chamber, adjusting my helmet’s light to inspect various areas of the room. It’s fascinating, but I don’t allow myself to be distracted by the alien symbols on the walls, or the fleshy cords dangling from the ceiling, or any of the other odd things I pass. Everything about the ship is foreign and disorienting, including the fact that it gets warmer as I head toward the rear of the vessel. But all of that is banished from my mind as the glow pulses again. It ripples throughout the entire ship, briefly lighting the ceiling, walls, and floor beneath me, but something in the depths of the vessel shines much brighter than all the rest.

I follow the glow across the main deck and through another circular doorway, stepping into a small, oval-shaped room, not much larger than my quarters back on Fortuna.

There, dangling from the ceiling, is the power source I’ve been seeking. Slim black cords snake into it from both sides and from above, holding it in suspension. With each pulse of the orb, the cords shiver, a movement that travels down their lengths and continues to ripple through the walls and ceiling. The room is moving around me, pulsing in tune with the power source, like it’s the ship’s ancient, still-beating heart. When another, larger pulse occurs, the orb glows so brightly I have to cover my eyes.

The whole ship is full of movement, full of what almost feels like life. Struck by a sudden fear that the entrance could have closed behind me, I whirl around. But my light shows me that both circular doorways are still open, and when I concentrate I can still hear the distant howling of the wind outside. Relieved, I turn back to the power source. It’s mesmerizing to watch it move. I’ve never seen anything like this before, nor even heard of one existing, even on Gaia. Despite the amount of alien artifacts there, most of them are inactive. With a power source like this, I can only imagine what someone could do, the types of long-dead technology they could awaken. It must be invaluable. And given the Isolationist penchant for Primus weaponry, it would also be incredibly dangerous in their hands. That must be why it’s so important for my team to retrieve it before they do.

I move slowly forward and raise my gloved hands. There’s no reaction as they draw nearer to the orb, nor when I lay them on its surface, which feels hot even through my thick gloves. The pulsing beneath my hands again reminds me of a heartbeat, and I swallow back uneasiness and force myself to hold on tighter. I pull it toward me—first gently, then with more force, then straining as hard as I can. The damn thing won’t come free.